Published November 22, 2025 | By Alyx E, Founder of Collectors MD

Dear Addiction,

There are moments when we think of you like a toxic ex—the one who made us feel alive and powerful, like we finally mattered, all while steadily dismantling our peace, stability, self-trust, and the parts of us that once knew better. You didn’t arrive as destruction. You arrived as comfort. As excitement. As escape. You whispered promises of control, certainty, and belonging. And in vulnerable moments, we believed you. We chose you. Again and again.

You gave us something when we felt empty. You filled the silence. You numbed the anxiety. You made the world feel manageable. For a while, you felt like relief. Like identity. Like the only place where the noise in our heads finally quieted down. We revolved our lives around you. Defended you. Protected you. We told ourselves you weren’t the problem—that anyone who challenged you simply didn’t understand our connection.

But here is the truth you never fully revealed: your affection always came with strings. Slowly, you shifted from comfort to command. From escape to expectation. From thrill to obligation. You took more than you ever gave back. You stole our clarity, our sleep, our money, our presence. You turned anticipation into anxiety and excitement into shame. The more we reached for you, the further we drifted from ourselves.

Even in the wreckage, there was a strange tenderness we clung to—a memory of warmth that softened the sharpest edges of harm. We mistook the echo of comfort for love, and the rhythm of routine for safety—even as the consequences rippled outward, wounding not just us, but those who stood beside us and suffered silently in the crossfire.

And still, like any dysfunctional relationship, there were moments we tried to romanticize you. Moments when nostalgia blurred the damage. But love built on harm isn’t love—it’s dependency disguised as devotion. And the longer we stayed, the more we mistook familiarity for security.

So this is where the narrative changes and we reclaim our power. Where we release the fantasy of what once was and finally choose ourselves. We are not writing to invite you back in. We are writing to release you. Not with hate or resentment, but with clarity. Not with denial or deflection, but with awareness. We see you for what you were—and for what you can never be again.

You may knock. You may tempt. You may remind us of the versions of ourselves that once felt powerless and consumed by your presence. But we are learning a different strength now. One rooted in honesty. One grounded in intention. One that understands that real love and connection never leave us depleted.

And when the urge whispers your name, we will answer with something stronger than temptation and nostalgia: our boundaries, our growth, our collective commitment to choosing clarity and control over chaos and compulsion.

#CollectorsMD
Bold, intentional healing begins the moment we stop surrendering to our destruction and start building a future grounded in self-respect and intention.

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